The Bird King lies dead…

The Bird King lies dead, locked in the embrace of his sarcophagus,
a mummified homunculus in a bandage womb,
a grotesque Russian doll with eyes still REM-twitchy, inside a grotesque Russian doll with eyes still REM-twitchy, inside…
a squirming expiring spermatozoa in a rolled up wank hanky,
a sardine in a fetid tin,
a pen in a presentation case inscribed with disingenuous platitudes,
a penis, raw, dwarfish after orgasm, weeping in a condom,
an idea incapable of expression,
an engagement ring kept in a case, never to be opened,
a moth in a cocoon, dreaming of the moon,
a chapter in a book that no one has read for years,
a blind eye in a laughing skull,
a FUCK in the mind and on the tip of the tongue of the schoolboy, greying in the classroom,
a feathery yellow creature in an unbreakable egg,
a play within a play,
a womb within a room,
a filament in a lightbulb in an abandoned house,
a stuffed bird in a tiny cage,
a secret, a dearth, a sneer, a fever, a rose, a beak, a letter, an email, a crisp packet, a fart, a speech, a rival, a hand, a doorway, a fire, a car, a lie, a chair, a gasp, a poem, a little poem, several little broken poems, spliced together (you can see the joins!), whole, unwholesome, wholly unholy, a hole, a gap, a pause, a silence.

All texts and images on this site are the copyright of James Knight. All rights reserved.

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